While thro' the broken pane the tempest sighs,
And my step falters on the faithless floor,
Shades of departed joys around me rise,
With many a face that smiles on me no more;
With many a voice that thrills of transport gave,
Now silent as the grass that tufts their grave!
Written At Midnight
Samuel Rogers
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Poem topics: voice, grass, rise, face, silent, broken, grave, step, floor, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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